


The Sincerest Form of Irony

by exnihilolo



Series: The Sincerest Form Series [1]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Septiplier AU - Fandom, jacksepticeye, mark and jack, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8508472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exnihilolo/pseuds/exnihilolo
Summary: Athlone is a small town - nothing ever really happens there.For Sean "Jack" McLoughlin however, it seems as though everything that could go bad, does go bad, on one rainy night in the Irish town, up until a hazy red figure swoops in to save the day.Is it simply fate playing with him? Or some form of irony only paralleled by the Alanis Morissette song that caused Jack to cross paths with the foreign stranger - the stranger who would play a bigger part in his life than he could ever imagine.





	1. Chapter one - Ouzo is a dangerous drink

It had been a rather rough night for Sean McLoughlin, or as he’d been coyly dubbed by his family, Jack. It was he and his girlfriend - Vee’s - one and a half year anniversary, and they had planned to dine at the local Greek restaurant. He also had some exciting news to share with her. Things were going swimmingly up until their mains had been served and Jack was preparing to share his surprise. Heck, he’d turned down an important business meeting just for this night, it meant that much to him. Long story short, the news was not received well, and Jack ended up eating his Moussaka alone, and consuming perhaps one too many Ouzos. Jack was only slightly intoxicated (by Irish standards at least) and somehow managed to pay his bill before convincing the waiter he was fit to walk home, and that his apartment was only a few blocks away. What a brilliant idea that was. Now the rain gathered in thick clouds above his head. His once sober walk became more of a stumble. In a haze of self-pity and mild anger, Jack thought to himself, as the rain finally began to fall from the sky, that this night could get no worse than it already was. What a silly thing to think, as his night did indeed, get worse. A man with dark baggy clothing brushed shoulders with Jack before proceeding to push him up against the terracotta wall with a swift thud. With a forearm pressed to his throat, Jack was suddenly propelled into sobriety.

 

“Jus’ gimmie yer wallet lad, and I’ll be on ma way. Don’t try no funny business.”  
Now Jack, despite being rather boisterous at the best of times, was no one to pick fights with muggers. However Jack was not in the soundest of mindsets at this point in time, and thought that taking on this guy would be a greaaat idea. He shoved the startled man off, obviously not expecting Jack to respond in the way he did, and meekly held his hands up. The mugger brought forward a switch blade, twisting it with menace as the raindrops that adorned the blade glistened with a steel sheen.

 

Oh fock. Jack thought, raising both his arms cautiously.

 

“Didn’t I tell ya no funny business?! Wallet, on the ground. Now.”

 

The next few moments were a blurr. A very red tinted blurr in fact. All of a sudden a bright headed guy in plaid was wrestling the blade from the perpetrator. It dropped to the ground as a slur of curses fell from the mugger’s lips. With the smidgen of sense he had left in him, Jack swiftly grabbed the blade and clutched it with both hands. However, with the mixture of alcohol and fast movements, Jack soon found himself curling over and vomiting.  
The epitome of class, this Irish lad.

 

There was an umph and a thump. With half of his stomach contents on the pavement, Jack, in all his partially inebriated glory, leant onto the wall with his left palm, clutching his stomach with the blade in his grip. He looked up to see the plaid man on the ground - immobile. The mugger snarled at Jack as he limped towards him. Jack raised the blade with the best intimidating look he could muster, considering the circumstances. With a moment of hesitation, the perp rush/limped away.  
Whelp. This had been a fun night.

 

Jack finally allowed himself to empty the rest of his stomach before turning his attention to the man on the ground, who had still not moved. And a lack of movement wasn’t the most reassuring thing to see. Hospital. Right, that would be a good place to start. Jack slowly leaned down to try and lift the red haired man up from the pavement.  
Oh no. Ohhh no. No no no no. This guy was rather heavy, with broad shoulders, there was no way he could lift him. A less strenuous method seemed more logical than slipping a damn disk or something.

 

“Uh, ‘scuse me, y’alright?” Jack poked the man with his middle and index fingers. No response. The rain beating against the pavement drowned out Jack’s voice, so he opted to roll the man over for better access. “‘Scuse me! Are ya alright?!” He yelled through the downpour.  
The man wore glasses, though one lense was cracked from the impact of his fall and they lay askew on his face.  
This wasn't working. One sure way to make it work however was to resort to rather drastic measures. Jack whacked the man across the cheek with a loud thwack.

 

A sudden jolt shook the plaid man’s body as his eyes flicked open. Something he must of instantly regretted due to the pain filled groan that rose from his bruised mouth.  
That certainly got a response from the previously unresponsive man.

 

“C’mon bud, gotta getcha t’ d’hospital ya might be dying ya silly prick.” Plaid man only groaned in response as Jack helped to get him to his feet. With an arm securely around the man’s waist, Jack lead him through the curtain of rain towards the direction of the hospital, cracked glasses lying discarded on the pavement.

 

{~}

 

A sneeze woke Jack from his slumber. Numbness crept from his body, and he soon noticed that he was very cold. So cold that shivers ran tracks up his spine and darted from nerve to nerve. It was at this point he realised that he was soaked to the bone. He also noticed that there was a rather significant pain at the base of his forehead. Each movement was met with either pain, or the cold touch of wet fabric against skin. He drifted into consciousness, taking in all new sounds and smells - his vision, still distorted.

 

“Mr. McLoughlin, you feeling better?” A voice that would have been considered sweet was warped. Hollow, like it came from a far off source. It rose in pitch as it danced with the coloured swirls that painted his sights, swirls that contorted into shapes. One formed the vague image of a face, brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. “Mr. McLoughlin? How is your hea- woah woah woah, alright,”  
The world seemed to tip. Jack desperately wanted to throw up, or sleep, or do something to relieve the incessant nausea that had suddenly overcome him. But a pressure on his bicep stopped him from tipping. There were murmurs, a chuckle or two, and soon Jack was standing, closing and opening his eyes to try and combat the black splodges blocking his vision.

 

“Alright, come on. I think somebody needs to use the bathroom before he chunders everywhere again. I’ll getcha some clothes from the lost property and you’ll be right as rain.”  
Jack did all that he could in his post-alcohol-fueled-night state to co-operate, and waddled with who he assumed was a nurse.

 

A new set of lost-property clothes, a watered down cup of what could only be described as “bean juice”, and a decent splash of cold water to the face for good measure, and Jack was looking semi-presentable. Save the dark rings under his eyes...and the knotted mat of green hair on his head...not to mention his skin was almost sickly pale, even more so than usual.  
Yeah, “semi-presentable” was probably too nice of a description.

 

Exiting the bathroom with a significantly clearer head, the nurse who had gathered him up from the row of chairs along the corridor and sorted his hungover ass out was leaning against the opposite wall. “Feeling better Mr. McLoughlin?” Her voice was edged with an impish lilt, though it did not overpower her genuine concern for the man’s health.

 

He gave her what could be considered a smile; though in this state, the corners of his mouth were turned down, and he did not meet her eyes. “Better than I was, thank you.”

 

“That’s good to hear,” her accent was odd, it was almost South African, “your friend is just down the hall by the way, room 17A.”

 

“My, friend?” Jack queried. He didn’t remember much of last night. He remembered the Greek restaurant with his girlfriend, the alcohol, and the rain. The rest was much too fuzzy to try and decipher for the moment.

 

The nurse raised an eyebrow, “Man, how drunk were you last night? You know, your friend, with the red hair. The one you carried in under your wing screeching that he needed, and I quote, ‘urgent medicinal assistances now right now he gon’ fockin die!’ That wasn’t even the worst of it. Good thing he was partially conscious and was able to form coherent sentences, unlike someone.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be doing rounds or something?” Jack retorted. It was intended to be a joke, though came out sounding a little brazen.

 

The nurse only rolled her eyes, “Whaaaatever.” To Jack, this was all new information. Though now that he did think about it, the colour red certainly stood out for some reason, though he didn’t have any friends with red hair. “Come on, I’ll show you, since you clearly can not remember. You were so insistent on staying outside his room I just assumed you guys were good friends.”

 

God. From this day, and this day forward, Jack made a vow to never drink Ouzo again.

 

The door to 17A was slightly ajar. “Help yourself to more coffee if you need it.” The nurse nodded down the hall before entering the room.  
Ah well, no matter how questionable the coffee was, Jack couldn’t turn it down after the night he had. Despite that thought, Jack took two sips and gave up.

 

Giving up on the ‘coffee’, Jack sluggishly made his way to 17A, entering the room midway through conversation, apparently, as both parties were sharing some form of inside joke, giggling away.

 

“Maybe next time don’t go around trying to be the hero, okay?” She grinned at him.

 

“Shut up, nurse.” He chuckled.

 

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted, seeing as you apparently don’t know each other.” She nodded at them both before departing.

 

The redhead was the first to speak up after the nurse was gone, pushing himself into a sitting position with a wince. “You must be uh, McLoughlin? It’s good to finally meet you- properly at least. I’m Mark.” The man stuck out his hand, keeping himself balanced with the other as he leant forward, smiling.

 

“Uh, yeah. I’m Jack. Sean actually, but m’friends call me Jack.”

 

Mark nodded. They shook hands. Jack couldn’t help but feel a little awkward considering he didn’t really know the circumstances of their original meeting.

 

“So-” Jack began.

 

“You probably don’t remember what happened last night, do you?”

 

He clenched his fist, lightly tapping it on his upturned palm. “Yeah I uh, I think I maybe had one too many last night…”

 

Mark chuckled lightly, shaking his head. Instantly, Jack felt his cheeks grow warm.  
“Well, I was actually walking to my hotel after a meeting. Started raining halfway there, but I thought I might as well keep walking. Then I heard some people shuffling around. Turned the corner, some guy’s asking for your wallet, then next thing I know he’s got a knife, and...well I couldn’t let you die or anything. I- I think he punched me? The details are kinda blurry, but I do remember you calling me a ‘silly prick’, and then there was the hospital…”


	2. Chapter two - It's a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one's a little short - chapters 3 & 4 will be longer. ^.^

Jack bit his lip anxiously. There was a pause. A pause. This wasn't a good sign.

“From what I remember you tried to drag me into the ER, but they wouldn’t let you. There was a lot of uh, yelling on your part. Oh and then at one point, you said something about saving my god damned pretty face?”

Jack went red. “You’ve got t’ be fockin’ kidding me…” He murmured, rubbing his face. “Listen, Mark, I am so sorry- f-for, uh, th-that.” His hand moved to rub the back of his neck. “Fock I need to sit down…” True to his word, Jack sat down. Thrilling stuff, indeed

Mark, bless him, tried his very best to not start cracking up at Jack’s awkward apology. “I get that you were a little tipsy - no one can control the way they act when they’re uh, ‘under the influence’. Honestly, I’m flattered-”

“Oh shut up.” Jack broke up Mark’s laughter with an embarrassed grumble. 

Successfully containing his laughter - though his smirk was undeniably smug - Mark shook his head in mirth. “Tell you what, I’m heading home in,” he knitted his brows together in recollection, casting his eyes upward, “three days; on Sunday, so how about you buy me a drink before then? If you’re really feeling that terrible, I mean.”

Jack had ceased burying his face in shame and met Mark’s eyes. There was nothing in them that suggested he was joking. The offer came as an unexpected invitation; he would’ve thought Mark would want to get as far away from him as possible. But, apparently not? “Uh, yeah, sure. Though I might just stick to coke if it's all the same t’ you.”

Mark chuckled. “Oh don’t you worry I wouldn’t want a repeat of last night. Believe me, savin’ your ass was fun and all, but I have a feeling I won’t be so lucky next time.” He tapped his head with a finger. Mark was obviously not from around here, judging from not only the accent, but from the fact Jack hadn’t seen him around before. Athlone was a small place, not a ‘know your next door neighbor's auntie’s cousin’s dog’ type of community, but the locals were known well, and when someone was here to stay, they were soon welcomed. Plus the whole ‘before I leave in three days’ thing was kind of a dead giveaway.

“Shit…” Jack murmured, directing his mental attention back to Mark. “Is your head okay ‘nd all?” 

“Escaped without a concussion, though the nurse gave me some painkillers to, ease my suffering...” Mark, the dramatic bastard, lay a hand on his chest in faux self-pity. By the look on his face and tone of voice, Jack could tell he was joking, though couldn’t help but groan at how bad he felt. As much as he appreciated the fact this guy had stopped him from getting robbed, there was still a pang of guilt in his gut every time he thought about it. 

“When do you get outta here?” A drink, though preferably non-alcoholic considering Mark would be all drugged up and Jack was nowhere near ready to consume alcohol, did not sound like the worst idea.

“I’m set to be discharged sometime after six.” 

“Uhm, how about Saturday evenin’ then? Give ya a bit of time t’ recover?”

“Saturday at 7.30?”

“Sounds good t’me,”

“It’s a date.” Mark beamed.   
Before, it seemed impossible for Jack to go any redder, but with a wink thrown in at the end of Mark’s proclamation, his complexion seemed to darken to a rich garnet. Though he ever so smoothly brushed it off with an awkward chuckle and stood, muttering that he’d bothered him long enough and should head home.

“Hold on,” Jack stopped in the doorway to cast his eyes back at the other man. “Gimmie your cell so I can contact you. Ya know, so we can decide where to meet.” Jack made an ‘oh’ sound before scooting over to the side table, grabbing a conveniently placed notepad and pencil from the side draw. He scribbled his number down before giving Mark a nod and making haste.

Shit, his head really hurt from moving that fast - at least he didn’t feel the need to vomit anymore - but at this point he had exhausted the extent of his skin pigmentation, and was certain his face might melt if it grew any redder.   
There was a certain rush, like that of when taking a breath of fresh air when getting off a plane, or the feeling you get when a roller coaster begins to stop after the climax of the ride, as he stepped out of Mark’s view into the corridor. It was relief, mixed with something akin to excitement. It could have been post alcohol induced heart palpitation of some sort. That, or it was the sudden remembrance that he had to be at work an hour ago.   
This was going to be an interesting story to tell the boss.


	3. Chapter - And isn't it ironic?

No, Sean William McLoughlin was not going back and forth about what to wear on his date- apology drink with Mark, and no, Sean William McLoughlin was not freaking out about it.  
Except he was kind of freaking out about it. No matter how many times Jack tried to convince himself that this was just a drink and not the end of the world, there was always a hint of apprehension swirling at the base of his abdomen, constantly reminding him of everything that could go wrong. On the other hand, Jack’s rational mind combatted with these anxieties, coming up with logical and reasonable reminders that the likelihood of these preposterous hypotheses happening was slim. Yet, much to Jack’s internal dismay, any logical thought was matched with an equally absurd one. Stupid brain. Stupid theoretical possibilities that somehow seemed plausible.  
He did eventually make it to the pub without turning back or readjusting his hair under his beanie for the twelfth time however. Mark was waiting at the bar with a glass of dark liquid in his hand when Jack entered, red hair tousled to one side. The natural dark roots had begun to grow back and intertwine with the red, like tendrils of onyx darting through the underbrush of a scarlet forest. Why Jack took note of this specific aspect of Mark, he would never know. 

“I hope you’re not int' the gat already Mark, that’s dangerous for an American, especially on drugs.” Mark flicked his eyes up to Jack, smirking at the comment. Jack took his seat next to the other man as he peeled off his outer layer. 

“Naw, I took your advice and stayed with coke.” He shook the glass ever so slightly so that the carbon-dioxide bubbles danced to the surface. He nodded at the tender for another. “You sure you’re not up for another round?”

Jack shook his head with a small smile. “Yeeaahhh I’d rather not.”  
With a nod of affirmation, Mark took another sip of his drink. 

This time it was Jack’s turn to tell his story. By the time his drink had arrived, he’d already begun retelling the events of how me managed to get himself into such a situation. “...our anniversary. We went to this local Greek place to celebrate, and I was planning to tell her something. Long story short my job offered me a two year long contract to work in America, actually. I had only known for a few hours at that point that I’d been approved, but I’d already said yes. And I hadn't told my girlfriend. Then after I did tell her, we fought. She disagreed with me accepting it, thinking that it was a stupid idea to go because she had a steady job that she didn’t want to leave, and that long distance relationships never worked. I said some things, then she stormed off when I didn’t ‘see it from her perspective’. Then, as far as I can recall, I uh, well- had a few too many. The rest is still pretty fuzzy. I don’t even remember being mugged.”

“Well technically, you weren’t, ‘cause I saved your pasty ass.”

“Hey, my ass is not pasty thank you very much.”

Mark rolled his eyes like the child he is. “Well you might just have to prove that to me.”   
Jack almost spat out his drink, though mark continued, “Look, in all honesty Jack, ‘m really sorry about what happened with your girlfriend-”

“Ex. She pretty much ended it. Won’t return my calls either.”

“Right, uh, ex-girlfriend. And hey, I know it’s a bummer losing someone you love, but from the two sober conversations we’ve had so far, I can tell you’re a great guy, and someday, you’ll make someone very happy. I can guarantee that.” Mark placed a hand on Jack’s upper shoulder blade. There was real sincerity in Mark’s eyes, something he didn’t expect to see from someone he’d known for only three days.

“Wow,” Jack raised his eyebrows for emphasis on the ‘ow’ sound. “That’s really fockin’ kind of you Mark.” The redhead smiled in reply, dropping his hand so it rested on the bar again. The loss of contact was much too noticeable for Jack’s liking, the warmth of Mark’s palm lingering as would the warmth on tarmac after a long summer's day. 

“Alright enough of my depressing stories what’s your gig? Whatcha doin’ in little ol’ Ireland?”

Mark finished what was left of his drink in a single gulp before beginning, “Well as I briefly mentioned in the hospital, the night I was walking back to my hotel, I had just come from a business meeting. I’m a game developer with my buddy Matt and we were contacted by this Irish company called ‘Septic Studios’ who wanted to properly fund our idea. We tried all ‘round LA first obviously-”

“Wait wait wait, you’re from LA?! And you’re game is being funded by Septic Studios?!”

“...well yeah I mean, I did just say that.”

“You know how I told you I had to move to America for my job?”

Mark, slightly concerned, nodded slowly, like he was trying not to provoke a wild animal.

“I’m from Septic Studios! They’re sending me to LA to overlook the development of your game! It’s called ‘Game Theory’, isn’t it? The RPG puzzle about jumping into other games and solving their backstories?” Jack asked. After a phone call to the head honcho on Friday morning, Jack was given the day off. He usually had weekends off anyway, so most of Saturday was just Jack playing on his PC and being lazy, seeing as Friday consisted of the odd headache and nap. He hadn’t received much information on the meeting he had missed, save a ‘the guy we met seemed really enthusiastic! I think you’ll like him, we’ll give you the rundown when you’re back’. 

Redhead suddenly got the point, and his mouth fell agape. “You- what? Yeah, it’s called Game Theory. I mean, the name is a work in progress but that’s us. You’re the rep they’re sending?”

“Yes! I’m your new Video Game Producer!”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes fockin’ way!”

“Impossible,”

“Try stunningly ironic.” Jack could not believe his damn ears. Mark was the LA guy? The one who he’d turned down meeting with because it was his and Vee’s anniversary? The one who he’d have to hover around for two years?  
What the fuck. There was a moment where both men looked at each other with utter disbelief, the peculiarity of the whole situation way too fantastical to even dream of, let alone comprehend. 

The rest of the night was spent in witty banter and good conversation. Mark even offered to pay for their drinks - but Jack only accepted if he could shout the taxi fare. And that he did. Because he shouted, they had to share. Then they laughed some more, and Mark asked if Jack wanted to meet him for a coffee before he would take the train to Dublin. Jack accepted.   
Mark was dropped off first. The rest of the ride was quiet, save the driver double checking where Jack lived. This gave him time to think. About his job, his girlfr- ex, about Mark. Mark seemed to stay in his mind a little after he got home, though he didn’t let this whack him out. He went to bed pretty much as soon as he got home, thoroughly content with how the night went, and even allowing himself to feel excited about seeing Mark tomorrow.


	4. Chapter Four - Not a one way kinda guy

“No! I still retain that Five Nights at Freddy's was an original and scary game!” 

“Yeah but all the hype kinda ruined it doncha think?” Jack curled his top lip ever so slightly before continuing. “And then as soon as someone criticised it, the entire fockin’ fanbase freaked out. And as much as I did enjoy the first few games - I dunno, I guess it felt a bit repetitive. Sister Location was pretty cool though.”

“Yeah I know whatcha mean, but I think the original concept was really cool. I guess it does seem a little ‘butter over too much bread’, doesn’t it?”

“Was that a Lord of the Rings reference?”

“...maybe.” Mark’s train was set to depart in an hour and the pair were basking in the small window of sunlight that had graced Ireland since summer; three years ago.  
They sat outside a quaint cafe - like something pulled directly from the streets of Paris in a classic black and white film. Jack had offered to train up with Mark, though the redhead argued Jack shouldn’t go out of his way for him. Jack tried one last ‘are you sure?’, and Mark kindly declined.

“But if I’m gonna be living in LA I’m gonna need someone to ferry me around so really I’m just sweetening you up so you’ll take me everywhere.” Jack grinned in the most sickly sweet way.

“So this is what all of this has been about? Oh Jack, you have offended my very being. Oh how my heart weeps.” He sniffed, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I definitely do not enjoy spending time with you at all. I just need you for when I get to America.” This guise was not kept for long, and both men broke out into full fledged laughs. 

Mark sighed - that same sigh one does when the euphoria had subsided, and the muscles in the stomach ache at being tightened, yet yearn for the sweet endorphins that once flowed in one's veins to return - that kind of sigh. “I never asked, when are they sending you out? They told me it would be sometime in mid September?”

“That’s about as much as I know.” Mark nodded, taking a drink of his coffee. They’d had a debate at the counter, Jack insisting that he did not need a slew of trimmings added to make a coffee taste good; hence, Jack took him to a proper cafe, not one of those starbucks shitholes Mark suggested they go to. The cashier told them they bickered like an old married couple, causing some awkward ‘no no no we’re not-’ ‘we’re just friends it’s not like that-’ and a profound dusting of blush creeping up both of their necks and onto their cheeks. But the cashier knew, and she smiled smugly at them.

“Well, I’ll make it my sole purpose to escort you around Los Angeles. Sound like a deal?”

Jack put on his pondering face, pursing his lips as he frowned and stared off to the left. “As long as you make the game your first priority, then sure.”

“Done. Anywhere on your bucket list?”   
Jack ducked his head, like he was embarrassed. “Ohh? You got somewhere huh?”

He huffed. “Yeahwellmaybedisneyland.”

“I’m sorry? Can’t quite heeear youuu,”

“I said Disneyland.” Mark raised his eyebrows, though didn’t say anything, and nodded. “What? Too cliche?”

“Nope. I’ll take you.”

“Then why the look of pure and holy judgement?” 

“Just not what I expected, s’all.”

Jack sighed. “I dunno man, it’s just always been a childhood dream of mine I guess. It’s stupid I know…”

“I don’t think so.” And there he went with the sincerity, a subtle glint amidst a pool of almond.   
There was a pause. And in this pause everything seemed to slow down. And Jack began to contemplate. But of course, everything didn’t really slow down, so here he was, practically staring into another man’s eyes, while said other man furrowed his brow, soon moulding his expression into mischief. “See somethin’ ya like Jackaboy?”

The introduction of the absurd nickname was enough to snap Jack back to reality, “Did you seriously just call me ‘Jackaboy’?”

“Yup. And I have a feeling it’s gonna stick.” And then that shit eating grin tugged at Mark’s mouth.

Jack rolled his eyes, “Yeah well don’tchu worry I’ll have an equally stupid one for you soon enough-” He paused mid sentence, squinting at Mark. “Uhm...I- I think I remember your glasses breaking on the night I was robbed-”

“Oh you mean the night I totally Spiderman saved you-”

“Yeah yeah yeah I get it you’re a big handsome hero whatever.” Make raised an eyebrow - Jack had taken no notice. “I’m pretty sure I remember seeing you with them, except one of the lenses was broken. Do you need me to reimburse you for another pair or something?”

Mark ‘hmm’ed. “I’m sorry all I got from the sentence was you calling me handsome.”

Shit shit shit Jack was turning very red. “Sh-shut up…” He murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. It was at this point, after the numerous other borderline flirtatious remarks he made, Mark realized that perhaps Jack maybe wasn’t into the same things as he was. 

“Jack I- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I get if you don’t swing that way or-”  
“No it’s uh, it’s okay Mark. I mean I’m not a one way kinda guy, if ya follow. I just- what with everything that happened with my ex-”

“Oh. Oh. Yeah no I got that. Andum, I understand.” Now it was Mark’s turn to go red. 

Jack would confirm it to his grave, Mark Fishbrock (or whatever the hell it was) was an attractive man. No doubts at all. But and he and his ex had only just ended things - well technically, they hadn’t spoken the exact words, but she had made it very clear she would not do long distance relationships, and it was too late for Jack to back out now. Not that he wanted to, having met Mark and all. But even the prospect of anything remotely related to romance seemed much too daunting. Heck, Mark may have only been joking around, and Jack’d blown it out of proportion, overthinking everything. Oh shit. Now he’d probably made Mark feel awkward. “Mark I’m sor-”

“Shit, looks like it’s time to head on over to the station.”

“Ya gotta go?”

“Yup.” While Mark got his shit together, and finished his coffee, Jack paid. Because Jack was a real gentleman like that. Luckily Mark only had one bag - and it wasn’t too big either - so they could walk to the train station in under ten minutes. Along the way, Mark managed to clear away some of the awkwardness by asking Jack about growing up in Ireland. Jack told him about going out to his grandmother’s house and causing mischief, he talked about his parents and many siblings, he talked about moving out to the middle a fucking forest and living in a log cabin. And by the time his stories had ended, so had their walk. They stood outside the stone building, both of them looked up, then at each other.

“Well, it was good to meetcha Mark, and I look forward to working with you in future.” Keepin’ it casual, McLoughlin, keepin’ it cool. He didn’t want to scare Mark off, now that he knew they would have to work in relatively close accordance with one another. He offered his hand for his companion to shake.  
Mark hesitated, contemplating whether or not to accept the handshake or just move on, Jack thought. Though Mark surprised him and opened his arms, a soft, though slightly timid look carved into his countenance. Jack willingly obliged.  
The world disappeared, and for the moment, it was the two of them. Just the two of them in silent embrace. And neither wanted to let go. But they did let go, because Mark had a train, and then he had a plane. And Jack still had a job and some loose ends to tie up. So they let go. Short, unsatisfying. It seemed like a dismal end to a beyond eccentric time.  
Mark turned his body to pick up the bag he had dropped, but he paused. Straightening his back and morphing an earnest facade.   
The world moved so suddenly, and next thing Jack knew, there were warm lips against his own. The initial contact was a jolt of surprise, though it melted into bliss. Dancing to a silent symphony, the pair kissed like it was the last time they would see each other. Not lustful or rushed, but sweet and slow - no moment had been taken for granted, and every movement was designed to elicit the most subtle tinctures of ecstasy. Hands loosely intertwined with hair, palms cupped stubbled cheeks, and the world stopped spinning. And how Jack wished he could stay like this forever, frozen in this moment that encapsulated the most tender definition of physical contact. But the seconds continued to pass, and they soon molded into minutes. Mark was the one to pull away first, letting his hands drop from Jack’s cheeks. 

“I’ll wait for you. I promise.” And with that, Mark; lips red and plump, face flushed, hair disheveled from another’s hands, picked up his bag, and he entered the station building. Jack stood, watching him leave. The air felt lighter, like it might flow through his pores and pass right through him. The red faded into dark, and Jack walked home. For the rest of the day he couldn’t think straight, and suddenly, he was back to his intoxicated Thursday night self. Drunk on the prospect of an unfathomable promise, sealed by the heat of a stolen kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sequel to this, The Sincerest Form of Chaos, will be out some time in the near future. Thank you everyone for reading :)


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